


the art of canes and prune juice

by springonions_withranch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assisted Living Facility AU, Baritsu, Canes, Fighting, Old Age, Old Mycroft, sorry it's short and bad but here you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:02:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springonions_withranch/pseuds/springonions_withranch
Summary: An aged Mycroft resides in an assisted living facility called Oakwood Senior Care, a place swarming with dull people and goldfish.Baritsu ensures.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Original Female Character(s), mycroft holmes and sherlock holmes (mentioned)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	the art of canes and prune juice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anna_Dromeda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Dromeda/gifts).



> this is for my new Ao3 buddy! Thank you for the idea and to anyone reading this, I am so sorry. <33
> 
> I banged this out in like, an hour, so it's quite bad so Bon Appetit I guess!!
> 
> enjoy~

Old age, Mycroft concluded, was the dullest and most putrid stage of life any human of decent intellect could possibly endure.

Not only did one have to rely on the competence and aid of others consistently, but an aging individual also had to spend the rest of his or her days wasting away in an assisted living facility. Nurses doting and flitting about, answering to your every need and acting sickeningly pleasant so as to provide you with “relief” and “comfort” in your final moments.

Mycroft detested it in Oakwood Senior Care and detested the people inside it even more. The faux cheerful nurses, the sour, withering, old husks of people, and the lemony-bleach smell lingering in the hallways. Tall, wide windows in the walls shed some light throughout the establishment, but it always seemed so suffocating to Mycroft. Old people had no respect for one’s personal space and the irritating care-takers were always around the corner; privacy was seldom available. 

* * *

  
  


However, this particular March morning, Mycroft had a reason to be...decently tolerable of the goldfish occupying the surrounding rooms and spaces. 

Three weeks prior, the staff at Oakwood Senior Care took it upon themselves to send around a survey with the following question: “To ensure the entertainment and well-being of the residents of Oakwood Senior Care, we are now accepting recommendations for Friday group activities. Please fill out your recommendations on the lines below.”

In his old age, Mycroft knew his physical state had diminished...considerably. Which is why, in fact, Mycroft wrote the simple word “baritsu” on the line in neat, flowing print. Baritsu was a martial art and self-defense method that originated in England. It combined elements of boxing, jiu-jitsu, cane fighting, and French kickboxing, and its true eccentricity intrigued Mycroft, and if he were to take anything up in his last years, it would be this. 

* * *

  
  


“Good morning, Mr. Holmes! Is there anything I can help you with today?” a resentfully jolly aid asked Mycroft. Glaring at his still-full glass of prune juice, Mycroft lazily waved his hand in her general direction, half-heartedly warding the nurse off. The nurse, a woman by the name of Madeline, nodded and shied away, relieving Mycroft of her meek presence. 

A glance at the clock above the doorway informed the old man that the hour was eleven o’clock.  _ How dismally dull _ , though Mycroft.  _ 30 more minutes of this tomfoolery before the real fun begins _ . 

As one could have guessed, 11:30 AM was the time the baritsu instructor arrived. Surprisingly, the staff of Oakwood Senior Care had selected baritsu as one of the Friday activities for the seniors, and shockingly, a great number of the residents participated in the events. 

Mycroft wouldn’t tell anyone how baritsu became a part of the week. Why would the staff approve of such a violent activity? Well, its approval had to do with their concern for the happiness of the seniors(and a large sum of money from the British government). 

* * *

  
  


The nurse, Madeline, hurried back into Mycroft’s general vicinity.  _ Wringing of the hands. Sweaty palms and temples. A slight tremor in the left hand. Eyes averted towards the ground. Spent three(?) minutes on the telephone and set it down soon thereafter. Two glances in my direction,  _ Mycroft deduced.  _ She has unfortunate news to relay to me; most likely the baritsu instructor has canceled. This may or may not have to do with the fact that I deduced and bested him in our lessons last week.  _

“I’m sorry to inform you of this, Mr. Holmes, but our baritsu instructor is unable to make it here for our session today. He has come down with...a common cold and does not wish to spread it to the residents here. Perhaps a game of chess in the meantime instead?”

Mycroft let his evident disinterest grace his wrinkled features and replied, “Unless you want to be bested horribly in thirty-five different chess strategies, I suggest you vacate my line of sight. Good morning.”

Madeline weakly nodded and scurried away, busying herself with datasheets and meaningless sod.

* * *

An elderly woman hobbled up to Mycroft’s seat with a cane, grunting with effort. 

“Say, ya gonna finish that, Mikey?” she croaked, gesturing to the glass of prune juice in Mycroft’s right hand. 

Mycroft balefully looked at her and calmly said, “I detest that name and request you call me by my given name, Mycroft. And yes, I do plan on finishing this glass of overly-sweet, runny, tacky, magenta juice, so if you be so kind and back away, it would be most appreciated--”

A glance at the beaded bracelet with the letters C, A, R, O, and L on them.

“--Carol.”

Carol peered at him through thick spectacles and asked, “Are you sure? Cuz it don’t look like you even touched it yet.”

Mycroft visibly cringed. “It’s  _ doesn’t _ , not ‘don’t,’ and I do believe you are missing some verbs in that sentence.”  _ Accurate grammar is lost as goldfish age, it appears. _

* * *

Carol, as it turned out, was feisty, and hobbled closer to Mycroft, effectively puncturing his personal space bubble with her tortoise-shell patterned cane.

“What on earth are you--”

Carol snarled and snatched the glass out of Mycroft’s hand, greedily gulping it like it was the last cup of liquid on the face of the Earth.

Mycroft, scandalized and offended by her action, stood and grabbed hold of his own plain, black cane.

“How dare you? Do you know  _ who I am? _ ” Mycroft screeched. “Have you no respect--”

“I don’t care,” the woman crabbed, setting the now-empty glass on the table beside Mycroft’s chair. “Thanks for the juice,” Carol cackles and whacks Mycroft on the head with her cane. “See ya around, Mikey!” 

  
  


With a growl, Mycroft brandishes his cane towards Carol.

“You drank my prune juice, Carol!”

“You weren’t even drinking it! Chill out, Mikey!” Carol rips her cane out from beneath her hand and swings it haphazardly towards Mycroft, wielding it like a sword.

“I wouldn’t try it, Carol. I’m training in the art of baritsu,” Mycroft warned. “I will not hesitate to incapacitate you.”

“Try me. I’m not scared of some bari- baris- barista!”

Mycroft internally face-palms and rolls his eyes.

“It’s baritsu, you utter goldfish.”

“It’s stupid, and you know it, Mike. Just like you,” Carol taunts.

_ The last straw,  _ Mycroft thought.  _ She’s asking for it. _

“En Garde, you wrinkle-faced lewdster!” Mycroft cries, charging(at a slow speed) at Carol.

* * *

Unfortunately, before Mycroft could incapacitate Carol, a nurse(probably Madeline, who was stronger than she looked) intervened, gently dragging the two seniors away from each other.

  
  


“Now, now, Mr. Holmes. We can’t be behaving like fourth years anymore,” a nurse consoled. “Besides, what would your brother think? He’d make a laughingstock of you!” 

_ Stupid sodding individuals, all of you, _ Mycroft thought.  _ I hate it here _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> again, I'm so sorry.
> 
> thank you for reading! Find me on Tumblr @barrybclout


End file.
